


Three Months

by divenire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek was Stiles babysitter, M/M, and Stiles has a crush on him, and Stiles is about ten different kinds of awkward, and it's kinda cute, and so is Derek, how horribly awkward they are, they're both so horribly awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divenire/pseuds/divenire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is freaking out. He’s freaking out because he’s seventeen and his Dad is leaving for the next three months and since he’s seventeen his Dad is making someone come stay with him. It doesn’t seem to matter that Stiles is five months from being eighteen and by all rights a legal adult. His Dad has decided someone has to come stay with him and no matter how many clever arguments Stiles comes up with, his Dad won’t change his mind on the subject.</p><p>And that on its’ own is bad enough. That someone is going to come stay with him even though the most exciting thing Stiles has ever done is stay awake for thirty-six hours straight playing HALO with Scott. And that was only the once, it’s not like that’s something he does often. It was once. And he really won’t be able to do that this summer anyway because he has a summer job working at the local movie theater.</p><p>But the worst part?</p><p>The person coming to stay with him is his old babysitter, Derek Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> I made a banner for the fic!
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talktowater on tumblr prompted me: “For example, Derek used to babysit Stiles when he was a kid, Stiles’ dad has to leave Beacon Hills over summer for work and agrees to let Stiles stay behind if Derek, his ex-babysitter who is home from college, moves in to keep an eye on him for three months.”

Stiles is freaking out. He’s freaking out because he’s seventeen and his Dad is leaving for the next three months and since he’s seventeen his Dad is making someone come stay with him. It doesn’t seem to matter that Stiles is five months from being eighteen and by all rights a legal adult. His Dad has decided someone has to come stay with him and no matter how many clever arguments Stiles comes up with, his Dad won’t change his mind on the subject.  
  
And that on its’ own is bad enough. That someone is going to come stay with him even though the most exciting thing Stiles has ever done is stay awake for thirty-six hours straight playing HALO with Scott. And that was only the once, it’s not like that’s something he does often. It was once. And he really won’t be able to do that this summer anyway because he has a summer job working at the local movie theater.  
  
But the worst part?  
  
The person coming to stay with him is Derek Hale.  
  
Derek Hale, the guy who used to babysit him. Derek Hale, the guy Stiles had a crush on when he was twelve. Derek Hale, the older guy who is way too attractive to go out with someone like him. Derek Hale, who he still has a crush on because how is it possible for anyone not to be insanely attracted to all of that?  
  
This is why he’s freaking out. Because. Derek. Hale.  
  
And he’s showing up today. And not just today, but an hour from now. The level of innate panic Stiles is feeling is ratcheting up with every minute that passes.  
  
He’s changed his clothes four times now. Not that it matters much, he has exactly five pairs of jeans that all look roughly identical, a few graphic t-shirts, some plaid button-ups and a few hoodies. And that’s it.  
  
Stiles is not a guy who ever pays much attention to what he wears. Ever. Today though? Today he’s wishing he would have, at least once, taken Lydia up on her offer to take him shopping and help him learn how to dress like something other than a fourteen year old. Sometimes, Stiles’ still feels like he’s fourteen. Like he’s fourteen and awkward and gawky and weird and unable to not say every word that pops into his head. Largely because he’s seventeen and still does all those things.  
  
And Derek? Well Derek is one of those people who, instead of going off to college, could easily have gone into modelling. He wears leather jackets and has a cool car and even when he was twelve, Stiles knew Derek was something special. Derek was the captain of the Lacrosse team and the coolest guy in school.  
  
And he’s pathetic. He knows he is. He doesn’t try and pretend like he isn’t. The most interesting thing he does is sit around with his best friend Scott and day dream about making first line on the team and finally finding people to go out with. Lately, Scott has a crush on the new girl, Allison, and he hasn’t shut up about it since the first day she showed up at school. Scott hasn’t even spoken to her yet aside from the occasional, “hey, what was the homework again?” or “do you have a pencil I could borrow?” And Stiles wonders how anyone can not notice that asking for a pencil is just the only thing a complete dork like him (or Scott) can come up with to say because, honestly, who comes to school without so much as a pencil?  
  
Stiles doesn’t like girls, but he hasn’t even really come out yet. He’s never said it, not in any exact terms. But then, well, then he figures everyone he cares about, which is all of three people, probably know or at least suspect. Lydia knows. Lydia knows everything about everyone, so it’s not a stretch to assume she knows this too. Scott knows, he can’t not know, because while Stiles has never outright said it, well, he’s said enough other things. And his Dad? Well, mostly he just wishes his Dad knows. He’s too afraid to really bring it up.  
  
Not that it matters. The only person he’s ever really been interested in was Derek. And that’s never going to happen. Not that he’s been carrying this huge torch or anything, he almost completely forgot about it, really. It’s just that Derek is going to be in his house constantly for the next three months. Three months of him living in the same space as Derek.  
  
It’s really pathetic the levels of freak out he’s reaching over this. So his childhood crush is going to be living in his house. So what?  
  
And besides, it’s not like he’s completely, totally, utterly pathetic.  
  
He almost dated Danny last year. So it’s not like he has no experience at all, it’s not like he’s a complete hopeless case in the dating department.  
  
Things didn’t work out with Danny, sure,  but that was because neither of them really liked each other all that much. It was mostly just because there are so few other gay guys in school that they both just sort of figured hey, why not? Might as well try it out.  
  
But Stiles likes video games, stupid movies and is, he’s almost ashamed to say it, kind of a romantic. Danny on the other hand is into reading, hiking and is realistic to the point of near pessimism.  
  
And Derek? Stiles has no idea what he’s into. He can’t even remember the last time he even saw Derek.  
  
And who knows? Maybe he’s not the same person Stiles remembers. Maybe... maybe...  
  
Nope. Stiles can’t come up with a possible version of Derek that’s not amazing. It doesn’t mean it’s not possible, just that he can’t come up with one.  
  
He paces the floor of his room, looks into the mirror about seven more times, then unceremoniously flops onto his bed to wait.  
  
A little less than an hour later his dad knocks on his door and says, “I’m gonna go now.”  
  
Stiles gets up, stretches and nods. “Okay.” He just sort of lingers there, standing by the edge of his bed.  
  
“What? No hug?” his dad says. Stiles rolls his eyes but walks over and gives his dad a hug. His dad hugs back, squeezes him and then lets him go.  
  
“I’ll miss you,” Stiles says, even though, okay, maybe he won’t. But then maybe he will. Maybe he will a lot.  
  
His dad smiles just a little. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. And if you’re not, well, Derek will call me and I can come home if necessary.”  
  
“Dad, please.” Stiles huffs. “I’m not a little kid.”  
  
His Dad gives him a look that says he isn’t convinced of that in the least but he doesn’t actually say it out loud, so Stiles pretends he didn’t see it.  
  
Then Stiles says, “Derek’s here?” And he hates the way his voice squeaks when he says it.  
  
His dad laughs a little and says, “Not yet, no.”  
  
And for a moment, just a moment, Stiles wonders if his dad does know. Not just that he has no interest in girls, but that he, to this day, has a less than innocent interest in his old babysitter.  If maybe his dad is a whole lot more cruel than he ever suspected. Because if his dad knows, there’s no other explanation for it. This is just cruel.  
  
His dad shakes his head and without saying anything else walks out of the room and down to the front door.  
  
Stiles follows and finds himself not having anything to do. His dad’s bags are already in the car and they’ve already said their goodbyes.  
  
“I’m sure Derek will be here shortly,” his dad says and Stiles isn’t sure who he’s saying it to. He looks out the window with a concerned face, like maybe if he doesn’t actually see Derek show up, maybe he won’t show up and Stiles will just spend the next three months alone. And maybe Stiles will throw parties every weekend even though they both know that if Stiles tried to throw a party the only people who would show up would be Scott and maybe Lydia if she didn’t have any better plans. His dad doesn’t say any of this, but Stiles can see the gears working away in his father’s mind, coming up with increasingly worse scenarios with each seconds that passes by.  
  
Stiles smiles and says in what he thinks is a reassuring tone, “It’ll be fine, dad. I’ll call you every other day, okay?”  
  
His dad seems to consider this for a moment then says, “Every day.”  
  
“Fine. Every day. I’m going to bore you to death every day with my dull and unexciting summer.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll have a good time,” his dad says, like he knows something Stiles doesn’t.  
  
Stiles almost asks what his father means by that, but he doesn’t. He decides he doesn’t want to know.  
  
“Well,” his dad says with a little too much emphasis on the second syllable of what should be a one syllable word.  
  
“Go already,” Stiles says.  
  
“Eager to get rid of me, huh?”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’ll be late.”  
  
His dad nods. “You’re right.” But still he doesn’t make a move for the door.  
  
“Go.”  
  
His dad nods again, hugs him one more time and then finally leaves.  
  
Stiles wishes he could enjoy this brief bit of freedom, but he can’t. Derek is going to be here, here in his house, any minute. And he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  
  


+

  
About twenty minutes later Derek hasn’t shown up yet and Stiles is starting to think about what he’s going to do if Derek doesn’t show up at all. Maybe he will throw a party. Sure, he doesn’t know anyone, but Lydia does. And maybe he can convince her to convince other people into showing up.  
  
Just as he’s planning out what kinds of chips he should get for this party he’s throwing the doorbell rings.  
  
Without really thinking about it, he goes to answer it.  
  
And standing behind the door is Derek. Because who else would it be?  
  
“Hey, Stiles,” says Derek, like they’ve been friends for years rather than being a weird kid and his old babysitter.  
  
And damn. Derek still looks... amazing. If it’s at all possible, he looks even better. Stiles just sort of takes in everything about him. He’s not clean shaven anymore, he’s got a bit of a scruffy look going and that really works for him. He’s still wearing a leather jacket, though it’s probably not the same one. His eyes are exactly like Stiles remembers - a shade of green Stiles is sure there isn’t even a name for.  
  
And that’s when Stiles realizes he’s just been standing there, holding the door open, not saying anything, for about ten seconds now.  
  
“Derek, hi!” he squeaks and he has to struggle not to smash his palm into his face.  
  
“Sorry I’m late. There was traffic,” Derek says and there’s a hard edge to it when he says traffic, like it was something other than that. Stiles, of course, doesn’t ask.  
  
No, instead of doing that, or doing anything else a normal person would do, he steps back and with a weird little flourish points inside.  
  
Derek laughs just a little, like he’s amused by Stiles and his weird behavior, and walks inside.  
  
Stiles closes the door behind Derek and when Derek’s back is turned he puts his hand over his eyes.  
  
This is going to be a very, very long summer.


	2. Month One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the always lovely korynnvictoria for the help with this chapter!

For the first few days, it’s really awkward. And not just because it’s Derek. It’s also because Stiles has never really lived with anyone else. He’s never even been to summer camp. So having someone in his house who isn’t his dad? It’s uncomfortable. Mostly because he has to think about things like other people being around in the morning. His dad almost always works night shifts, so he’s used to having the place to himself in the morning. Which up until Derek showed up, meant wearing boxers and little else down into the kitchen while he eats breakfast.  
  
So, he’s shocked and (of course) completely embarrassed when the day after making an idiot of himself, he stumbles down into the kitchen, eyes half open and brain half asleep to see Derek standing there with his head in the fridge.  
  
Without looking up, Derek says, “We’re out of milk.”  
  
Instantly, Stiles panics and wraps his arms around himself, like that’s going to do anything and lets out a high pitched squeak. Derek shuts the fridge door and stands up and looks at him plainly, like he doesn’t even notice anything out of the ordinary. Derek, of course, is fully dressed. And Stiles, Stiles is definitely not.  
  
“I...” Stiles squeaks and really, if he could pay someone to get his voice to stop doing that, he would. “I... going upstairs now.” He turns on his heels and darts upstairs like a rabbit being hunted down. He slams his bedroom door shut and leans against it, breathing heavily.  
“Oh, god,” he mutters to himself. “Good job, you idiot.” He rakes his hand over his face and lets out a groan he hopes Derek doesn’t hear.  
  
He spends the rest of the day avoiding Derek.  
  
+  
  
The next night Stiles somehow convinces Derek to watch Spawn with him and Scott. Apparently, Derek has never seen it and Stiles has seen it at least ten times, while Scott has seen it at least eight. Out of all the movies they’ve watched, which is an obscene amount, Spawn is by far the grossest. Stiles isn’t sure what the movie was originally intended to be, if it was supposed to be scary or if the people making it knew it was one of the most ridiculous things ever to be put on film, but they enjoy re-watching it.  
  
He and Scott laugh at all the same parts they always laugh at, but more than that, they laugh at Derek’s reactions to the movie.  
  
It’s about ten minutes in before Derek says for what won’t be the last time, “How was this movie made?”  
  
And Stiles doesn’t know what he means by that. “Are you interested in making films?” he asks in an attempt to both clarify what he meant and learn as much as he can about Derek. It’s been two days and so far Stiles doesn’t even know what Derek’s majoring in at college.  
  
Derek scoffs. “No, I mean, who thought this was a good idea? And not only that, how did so many people think this was a good idea? This is disturbing.”  
  
Scott laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know, I think it did okay when it came out.”  
  
“That’s not the point. This movie...” Derek angles his body on the couch so he’s facing Stiles and Stiles really wishes he wouldn’t. “How do you even like this movie?”  
  
Stiles shrugs and suddenly he’s a little bit embarrassed. To make matters worse, right then is when Clown shows up. And Clown’s first scene happens. The one with the most obscene jokes in the entire movie. And the faces Derek makes? They’re what would be called priceless. Stiles can’t help but notice that even when he’s making unattractive faces, Derek is unfairly attractive. And he’s just so grossed out, so disturbed by the fact that a movie like this even exists, it’s funny. Stiles can’t help but laugh, not at the movie like he usually does, but at Derek.  
  
And he files that away in his head as a fact he now knows about Derek - Derek hates dirty humor and he hates stupid movies.  
  
+  
  
After a few weeks, they’ve established a sort of a system. Kind of. They buy food every couple of days and Derek likes to buy junk food while Stiles is a health nut, so they argue over what to get a lot. They don’t clean things unless they actively need to, like if something is spilled somewhere.  
  
Other than that, Stiles goes to work, and he hangs out with Scott and now occasionally Derek. Mostly, they watch movies. Derek has completely different taste in movies than either Scott or Stiles. He likes serious movies, the kind that make you think, or inspirational movies, any movie with a message. Stiles and Scott like movies purely for escapism purposes. But usually they can all agree on comedies, when they don’t feel like torturing each other with the choice of movie. Everyone likes comedies, even the usually serious about everything Derek.  
  
Derek spends most of his days reading. And reading things that weren’t assigned as summer reading because apparently, college students don’t get summer reading. And apparently, Derek likes reading. A lot. Like to the point that he only packed maybe eight shirts and thirty books. And a lot of them are big, heavy ones too.  
  
Stiles knows this not because he was a creep and went looking through Derek’s things, but because one day he was doing the laundry and Derek’s stuff was in with his and he asked Derek if he had anything else, since he was doing it anyway. Derek said no, that was it and Stiles thought that was odd because there were only eight shirts. He even counted them because that’s how odd it was. And that was when he asked Derek how it was possible to only have eight shirts but like three large suitcases. Because he remembers that on the first day, Derek dragged in three very large, very heavy suitcases. And he remembers exactly how heavy they were because he tried to carry one and got about as far as halfway up the front steps with it before Derek came back downstairs to grab another suitcase and had to help him with it.  
  
And then Derek showed him his book collection. He’d taken them all out of the suitcases and lined them up in stacks against the wall. There were some classics, a big book of Sherlock Holmes stories, a book of the collected plays of Shakespeare, and another full of all the different Tarzan books. There were a few more modern books too, like The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and a few books by Neil Gaiman. But the ones that really caught Stiles’ attention were these little, square paperbacks with broken spines and tattered pages written by the same person who wrote the Tarzan books, Edgar Rice Burroughs, called A Princess Of Mars, Gods of Mars and Warlord of Mars.  
  
Stiles doesn’t really read books that often, but he can still tell the difference between a well loved book, like the Mars ones, and a book that’s just carried around for show, like the Shakespeare book that looks like it’s brand new and never even been opened the once.  
  
“So you’ve read these ones a lot?” he asked.  
  
Derek nodded and for a split second, just a fraction of a second, he got this sad, bitter look on his face. “They were Laura’s favorites,” he said quietly, like he was letting out some huge secret.  
  
“Oh,” Stiles said. He left it at that because he didn’t know what else to say. He knew about how Derek’s sister Laura had died in a car crash a few years before. He remembered, even now, looking out of his classroom window on that day and seeing Derek being lead out of the school by his uncle Peter. Derek hadn’t been crying and he hadn’t been making any noise, but still. Stiles had noticed something had gone wrong. There was a way Derek usually carried himself, with his head held high and this perfect, straight posture and on that day Derek had been practically folded into himself, like he was hiding from something.  
  
He and Derek hadn’t spoken for a while at that point, because really, who talks to their old babysitter in high school? And besides that, even if that hadn’t been the case, he had been a dorky, lowly freshman and Derek had been a senior at the time. And while yes, Stiles was socially awkward to the point of inept, he wasn’t socially suicidal, either.  
  
The whole school had found out the next day about what had happened to Laura; Derek had stayed out of school for a week after the accident. And every day that week Stiles very nearly walked over to the Hale house to say something, to do something. He didn’t, though. He never said anything. He never spoke to Derek about it at all.  
  
So, maybe to try and make up for never saying anything then, he said, “My mom’s favorite was Bridge To Terabithia.”  
  
Because the thing is, Stiles knows what it feels like to miss someone who isn’t there anymore. His mom died when he was little. And the worst thing isn’t just that she’s gone, it’s that he can’t talk about her. He can’t bring it up to most people. They just give him this sad, pitying look and then abruptly change the subject. Or worse, he tells them something about it, about her and they respond with something totally unrelated, like how they’re upset about a math test or how they lost their favorite pencil or some other inane thing. He can’t mention anything about her in conversation without the fact that he lost his mother becoming the conversation.  
  
But maybe with Derek, he can. Maybe they can actually talk about these things with each other like they can’t with other people.  
  



	3. Month Two

****  
  
  
  
Derek has spent the past month feeling more and more like a horrible, awful person. Because lately, well, lately... well... he’s been having a problem lately. With Stiles. Or more specifically with how old Stiles is. Or isn’t. And how wrong it would be for him to be having certain feelings towards someone underage. Like Stiles. And he’s been going over this and over this in his head for the past month and he hasn’t said a thing about it. Well, of course he hasn’t said anything. His whole life he’s been astoundingly bad with words, which he knows (because his sister never stopped bringing it up) is kind of funny for a guy who loves reading as much as he does, but there it is.  
But, whether he’s said anything or not, that doesn’t change anything. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.   
  
And yet...  
  
He can’t help it. It’s ridiculous and awful and about ten kinds of wrong but...   
  
There’s something about the way Stiles is always flailing around and always talking about everything and nothing all at once that Derek can’t get out of his head. There’s something magnetic about Stiles that Derek is surprised that no one else seems to have ever picked up on.  
And it’s not just that. It’s not just that he can’t stop staring and he can’t stop having terribly bad, awful, dirty thoughts about someone who could get him landed in prison if he ever acted on those thoughts.   
  
It’s also that Stiles understands things, understands him in ways that most people just don’t. He can talk to Stiles about Laura and not get that pitying ‘oh, you poor boy’ look most people give him. He can talk about her, and not just about the accident, but about her, and not get the feeling that he’s making Stiles uncomfortable. With most people, when he mentions anything about his sister it gets dead silent the second he stops talking. He tries not to think about why, but he knows it makes people uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say when he absent mindedly brings up a story about his sister, like the time she stole all his books for a week and hid them in an effort to get him to try out for the lacrosse team, to go out and do something. And he did, and that actually worked out really well, even if he hadn’t wanted it to in the first place. Or the time she made him watch all of the Muppet movies with her, even though she knew that puppets creep him out.   
  
Or worse, he accidentally tells a story about her and the person he’s telling the story to doesn’t know that his sister is gone. And then he ends up having to tell them and then they get that sad look on their face, and they say something about how they’re sorry, like it’s their fault. And then it’s just awkward after that.  
  
But it’s not like that with Stiles.  
  
Because Stiles gets it. Because he’s been there. Well, not there exactly, but close enough.   
  
They’ve both lost someone. They both understand what that feels like.   
  
And that’s nice. Nice is not a terribly descriptive word, but that’s what it is. Nice. It’s nice that he can talk to someone else about this, rather than spending all of his time and effort keeping his mouth clamped firmly shut about this, about his sister, about what happened, about all of it. And in having to do that, having almost nothing he can actually say. Having almost no stories to tell when a conversation devolves into anything involving telling them because almost half of the stories of his life involve her.   
  
It’s nice with Stiles but he knows it’s not something he can keep. It’s not something he should even have right now because really (and he has to keep reminding himself of this) he was hired to live here for the summer. Because Stiles is still seventeen. Still not eighteen. Still not old enough to live by himself.  
  
And even if he was old enough, it’d still be wrong. Because he remembers the twelve year old kid that Stiles used to be, the one he used to babysit. The one that was even more hyped up and energetic than he is now. And there’s something wrong with that, isn’t there?  
  
So, pretty well every day he makes himself promise to just stay away, to wait it out and then he can go back to school and bury himself in his schoolwork and pretend like this never happened. But then Stiles knocks on his door and walks into his room and asks him to watch a movie, or to go play paintball with him and Scott, or whatever, and he can’t help it. He says yes and he goes and he has a good time. If he’s honest, he has a better time than he’s had in a while. And that may or may not be horribly sad, that the best time he’s had is sitting around, eating copious amounts of chips and drinking excessive amounts of mountain dew and watching the worst movies probably ever made.   
  
Because Stiles has probably the worst taste in movies of anyone Derek has ever met.   
  
The worse the movie, the better Stiles likes it. He loves anything with Bruce Campbell or Vincent Price or anything with really, really bad effects or like eight or nine sequels. Derek’s never really cared for movies, and he really doesn’t care for the ones Stiles likes, but he likes being with Stiles when he’s watching them. He likes the stupid jokes he and Scott tell, the lines they quote because not only do they like bad movies, they like watching the same bad movies repeatedly. They like knowing all the stupid lines of all the stupid movies. And it’s fun.   
  
And they don’t expect him to say anything, either. He isn’t sure if it’s because they’re just too busy quoting lines and cracking jokes to notice he doesn’t say much, or if they just don’t care, but either way, he likes that.  
  
+  
  
One night, when they’ve watched both of the Mortal Kombat movies plus the DOA movie and the original Street Fighter movie Scott goes home for the night. Derek doesn’t really see why, since he’ll probably be back tomorrow, but he doesn’t say anything about it.   
  
Actually, he’s happy Scott’s gone because that means he can talk to Stiles.   
  
He doesn’t want to, but if he’s honest with himself, he really needs to.   
  
Stiles is just cleaning up the popcorn bowls and the empty soda cans when Derek says, “Stiles?”   
  
Stiles pauses, his hands full and turns to look at Derek. “Uh-huh?”  
  
“Ummm... We should, uh, sit down and umm...” Derek has no idea what he’s trying to say.  
Stiles gives him a weird look and Derek just knows he’s ruining this. He can almost hear Laura’s voice in his head, telling him to stop screwing this up, to just relax and talk like a normal human being.   
  
“Are you trying to tell me something? You’re dying of cancer? There’s a puppy stuck in a well? You’re massively in love with me?” Stiles says with a laugh.   
  
“Umm...” Derek stammers. It turns out that yeah, it’s the last one. Well, mostly. More like he’s massively in like with Stiles.   
  
Stiles who is several years younger than him and still legally underage for the next several months.   
  
“Okay,” Stiles says, all traces of humor gone from his voice, “this was funny but now it’s just getting kind of scary...”  
  
Derek blinks and wishes he’d never said anything. Well, he hasn’t actually said anything yet. He wishes more that he’d never tried to say anything.   
  
But instead of saying that, instead of saying anything else, he blurts out, “I like you.”   
  
The silence that stretches out between the two of them makes Derek’s skin itch. He runs through about eighty different scenarios, most of which involve Stiles laughing in his face, some of which involve Stiles bringing up how underage he is, and very, very few of which involve this going in any sort of direction that could be called favorable.   
  
And then it happens. Stiles laughs. But it’s not a bitter, cutting sort of laugh. It’s bright and cheerful and happy and Derek can’t help it, it fills him up with hope he knows is stupid. But it’s there anyway.   
  
“I’ve liked you since I was 12,” Stiles says and okay, that’s what Derek had wanted to hear, sort of. But... since he was 12? Really?  
  
Derek can feel the silence building up again so to break it he says, “Oh. That’s nice.” Then he does an actual face-palm because really, that’s nice? That’s... why did he say that? What is wrong with him?  
  
He doesn’t have the time to start listing all the things that are wrong with him because just then Stiles drops what he has in his hands, walks across the room and kisses him. There’s no pretense, no nice words said, just all of a sudden, Stiles is up close to him and smashing into his lips like he thinks behind them is some sort of great buried treasure.   
  
Derek breaks the kiss for an instant, lets out a choked laugh, then grabs Stiles by his hips and drags him closer.  
  
There’s a split second, before the fact that he’s making out with someone he really likes just takes over and makes all coherent thought impossible, where Derek worries that Stiles... that Stiles... well, if he’s not okay with the fact that Derek is basically treating him like the girl in this scenario? But Stiles just makes this contented sort of noise in the back of his throat and then Derek stops caring about that.   
  
He’s never been any good at this, not the kissing, not the dating and definitely not the talking, and together they’re probably even worse. Together, they’re probably downright terrible, but it’s the best sort of terrible imaginable.


	4. Month Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this fic is finished! I’ve also gone in and changed some of it, so I think it all works better now.
> 
> And thanks to Taryn for betaing this chapter and KorynnVictoria for reading it over!

They’re on their lunch break and sitting in the mall food court when Stiles tells Scott.  
  
“So Derek kissed me,” he says, like it’s not a big deal or anything. Like it’s a not a big deal the person he’s had a crush on pretty much for forever, kissed him last night.  
  
Scott responds to this by choking on his sandwich. Stiles just sort of sits there for a second before stammering, “Um, well, um... are you okay?” And Scott, in between waves of coughing violently, waves his hands around in a way that’s either supposed to mean, “I’m fine” or “Go get help”. Stiles has no idea which it actually is, so he just sits there, his eyes bugging out of his head, panic rising in his chest and not just because Scott is choking but because Scott started choking when he told him that he kissed a guy and maybe Scott’s freaking out about that? Maybe he doesn’t know? Stiles always figured that of all people, Scott understood. He figured (or maybe more like hoped) that he wouldn’t have to tell Scott because Scott already knew. But maybe he doesn’t. And maybe - oh, god, maybe -  
  
Scott coughs one last time, then frantically reaches for his soda and starts gulping it down. A few seconds later he sits back and sighs. “Sorry,” he says quietly. Stiles wonders what exactly he’s sorry for. Is it for choking, which is unavoidable so why apologize for that, or is it because he’s about to say something he knows Stiles’ won’t like? Stiles holds his breath and sits on his hands as he waits for Scott to continue.  
  
“He what?” Scott says. And honestly, Stiles doesn’t know how much more he can simplify it other than “he kissed me”, but instead of saying that, or saying nothing, he does what he usually does and starts rambling.  
  
“Well it was just after you left and we were cleaning up the living room and Derek just gave me this serious look and said we need to talk and I made a stupid joke and asked if he was about to say that he’s dying or that he’s hopelessly in love with me and then he just...” Stiles pauses, his hands slipping out and swirling in circles in the air like the human equivalent of that swirling beach ball of doom his Mac gets when it’s overloaded. “He just looked at me and it kind of weirded me out but then - “  
  
Scott cuts him off. “Stiles!” He barely holds back a laugh. “Okay. I get it.”  
  
“Umm... So...” Stiles stumbles over his words. “Ummm...” He can’t seem to actually say ‘you get what?’ Because... because what if Scott doesn’t get it? He doesn’t know how to handle that.  
  
There’s an awkward pause before Scott says, “So you and Derek, huh?” And he’s smiling. That’s when Stiles knows he has to say it. Out loud.  
  
“I like guys.” For a nerve-wracking second, Scott frowns. Then he shakes his head and smiles.  
  
“Uh, well, yeah, I mean... this whole story you just told me would be weird if you were straight, right?” Stiles bursts out laughing. He can’t help it. He shouldn’t have been so nervous, not around Scott. Scott always knew. Of course he did.  
  
After a few seconds, Scott starts giving him this concerned look, so he stops and says, “Well, yeah.”  
  
Scott takes a huge bite of his sandwich and says, “You are so weird.” Or at least Stiles thinks that’s what he said, it’s hard to make out the words around the food in Scott’s mouth.  
  
They finish eating in silence and when they’re walking back towards the theater Scott says, “So Derek is like, in college,” with special emphasis on the word ‘college’ to point out how weird and foreign it is that Stiles is now dating a college guy.  
  
“Yeah,” Stiles says with a nod.  
  
“You’re dating an older guy,” Scott says.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That’s weird.”  
  
“Me being gay you’re totally fine with, but me dating someone older, that’s the weird part?”  
  
Scott nods. He’s silent for a second before saying, “It’s weird when this is the guy who used to babysit you. The guy you had a crush on when you were twelve.”  
  
“Since I was twelve,” Stiles amends.  
  
“Wait...” Scott gets an adorably confused look on his face. “Since?”  
  
Stiles nods and he can instantly feel himself blushing. He tries to pretend he isn’t, but it doesn’t really work. “Yeah.”  
  
“Is this why it didn’t work out with you and Danny?”  
  
Stiles rolls his eyes. “No.” He scoffs. “Come on. I’m not that pathetic.” Scott gives him a look that says ‘yeah, you kinda are’. Stiles wants to debate the subject, but he’s pretty sure that would just prove the opposite of his point, so he says nothing.  
  
Just before they split up to go to their respective stations - Scott checking the tickets and Stiles working at the counter - Stiles says, “You want to come over after work?”  
  
Scott pauses mid-step and looks confused, this time with a side order of awkward. “Is Derek going to be there?”  
  
Without thinking, Stiles says, “Yes. He lives there.”  
  
“That part’s weird too.”  
  
“If I promise not to make out with him with you there, will you come over?”  
  
Scott makes a face like he’s thinking it over (even though they both know he’s not) before saying, “Sure.”  
  
They split up and Stiles smiles for a moment, happy that things seem to genuinely be going his way. Then it occurs to him that he’s more or less said that he and Derek are dating and so far, all they’ve done is kiss once. They haven’t even talked at all today, not really. Derek was out when he got up in the morning, then he went to the library alone, then he went to work. So he doesn’t actually know what they are.  
  
He spends the rest of his shift thinking about it and by the time he and Scott are heading home, he still has absolutely no idea what this is.  
  
+  
  
Later that night, hours after Scott has left, Derek and Stiles are laying on the couch together, cuddled up in a way that’s only comfortable since both of them are already half asleep.  
  
“So...” Stiles says, half hoping Derek won’t be awake enough to answer. “This...” Before he even says it, he knows he’s about to ruin what has, up to this point, been the single greatest moment of his entire life with the exception of the kiss last night. “What is this?”  
  
Derek points lazily over Stiles’ shoulder at the tv. “I think it’s an infomercial.” He follows it up with, “We should really go to bed.”  
  
“No, I mean this.” Stiles waves a hand at their tangled up bodies. He silently prays, please don’t make me say ‘us’.  
  
“This? As in us?” Derek says and Stiles has to force himself not to groan. I should have said, please don’t make him say us. Stiles doesn’t like the word ‘us’. He doesn’t like the whole ‘we’ thing either. He’s crazy about Derek. That has been established. Thoroughly. But he’s never wanted, and now that it’s a possibility that he’s not going to be single for the rest of forever, he still doesn’t want to be one of those people who lose themselves in a relationship. To suddenly stop being your own person and to just become this conglomerated, merged, mangled mess that at one point was two separate people and okay, he’s probably massively jumping ahead of himself here because they haven’t even said if this is actually going to be a relationship and - Derek taps him on the side of the head with a finger.  
  
“You know, if you think any harder, I wouldn’t be surprised to see steam coming out of your ears.”  
  
“Huh?” Stiles mutters, distracted. Then he snaps back to attention, to the fact that he’s currently cuddled up next to Derek on the old couch in his tiny little living room. “Oh.”  
  
“Right. So...” Derek says.  
  
“So, yes. This whole... relationship thing.” Stiles doesn’t do it on purpose, but he makes a face when he says ‘relationship’.  
  
Derek laughs and Stiles can’t help but notice that he can feel it when Derek laughs. He can feel Derek’s breath on the back of his neck and that... that, even just that... it does things. It does things to him that are much too distracting for the conversation he’s trying to have right now. So, with the most dejected of sighs, he untangles himself and sits up.  
  
“You know, if you, if you don’t want... I mean, I don’t want to...” Derek doesn’t move. He stays sprawled across the couch, his shirt riding up. And damn, even that is distracting.  
  
Stiles looks away. He has to stay focused. Or as focused as he can ever be on any one thing. “No, I just, I mean, I didn’t - “ he stops short. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. Not looking at Derek is just making him want to look at Derek. It’s taking all of his attention either way. So he turns and looks. And the look he sees on Derek’s face? It hurts. It actively hurts. Derek looks so unsure, so afraid, so... vulnerable. He’s never been the cause of that sort of look before. It’s unnerving.  
  
“I like you. And you’re leaving in a month. I didn’t think about that before. And I’ve never really done this before. The relationship thing. And I’m 17, right? I’m almost 18, but still. I don’t - “  
  
Derek still doesn’t move. It’s like he’s actively trying to stay in the same position now. “You don’t know if now is the right time to be starting something serious. I get it.” He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but it’s clear he feels the exact opposite of that right now.  
  
“No! No, no, that’s totally not it.” Stiles drags his feet up onto the tiny corner of the couch he’s occupying and wraps his legs up under his chin, so he’s taking up even less space. “I don’t know how to do this. You’re leaving in a month. For college. A college full of all these other guys. And you’re... I mean... have you looked in a mirror lately? Don’t go telling me that you don’t get asked out a lot and I mean like all the time.” Stiles has about eighteen thousand other thoughts all jockeying for position, all trying to escape from his mouth, but he stops there.  
  
“So you don’t want a relationship, but you don’t want me seeing other people?” Derek says and finally, he sits up. He stares at the tv, like the infomercial for some sort of fancy blender is the most interesting thing in the world.  
  
“No, I - “ Stiles lets out a huff. “Do you want -” He feels like tearing his hair out. He settles for running his hand up the back of his neck and gripping his hair really hard. He wants this, he just, he just... no, screw it. He has no idea what he wants.  
  
“Stiles,” Derek says, and suddenly he’s turned to face Stiles and is looking directly at him. “I like you. I don’t really care about the whole distance thing. But if you don’t want a relationship, if you just want this as a summer thing, if you just want to see where this is going, that’s fine. I’m not going to push you.”  
  
“Don’t do that. I don’t want an out. I was freaking out that maybe you did or that maybe you don’t right now but you will a month or two from now when someone better comes along.” Or maybe Stiles does know what he wants. He’s just afraid to get it, afraid he’ll lose it.  
  
“Someone better? Seriously?” Derek starts giving him this look that plainly says ‘you must be joking’ and it makes Stiles want to slide across the couch and slap him.  
  
“Yes, seriously.” Stiles waves a hand at himself. “I’m not exactly experienced in any of this. I’m not exactly chasing guys off with a stick.”  
  
“And you somehow think I am?” Derek asks, seemingly making a point of looking absolutely disturbed by that idea.  
  
“This is what I’ve been saying, yes,” Stiles says, and okay, maybe it’s a little snappier than it ought to be but he can’t help it. Derek is quickly becoming infuriating to the point where Stiles is tempted to run upstairs and grab a mirror just to make his point.  
  
“Why?” Derek demands.  
  
Stiles sighs. “This whole thing where you pretend like you don’t know how ungodly attractive you are might seem cute but it’s quickly approaching infuriating.” He’s pretty sure he sees Derek blush at the words ‘ungodly attractive’ but neither of them says anything about that.  
  
“Sure,” Derek grits out, and for the first time Stiles notices that he seems just as irritated with him. “People flirt with me all the time. Then I inevitably end up saying something about my sister and then they ask about her and that leads to the ‘dead sister’ conversation and it usually spirals downward after that.”  
  
“Oh.” And that’s just weird. It’s weird because that’s one of the things Stiles like about Derek and not in the I’ve-liked-you-since-forever sort of way, but in an actual real reasons to like who Derek is kind of way. Not that his sister is dead, that’s weird, obviously, but that he understands that. That Stiles doesn’t feel like he has to constantly guard this huge secret around Derek, that his Mom died, that sometimes he misses her and sometimes he remembers things about her that make him smile. Most people don’t get that. That it’s not all sadness, not all the time. “Well,” Stiles says, “most people suck. They don’t get it.”  
  
Derek laughs and Stiles feels like throwing a pillow at him, but all the pillows have long since fallen to the floor and he’s too lazy to bother with picking one up. It’s silent for a second then Derek says, “You get that I like you, right?” He’s still smiling a little, but then he looks down at his feet, at the carpet and Stiles can’t help but wonder why.  
  
“Yeah, but, why though?” And oh, god, Stiles can’t believe he just asked that. He actually just asked that. Why did he just ask that?  
  
Derek looks up and for an instant he has a complete deer in the headlights look that he soon smoothes over. “I... I don’t really think... I mean...” He grips his knees and looks away. “You don’t freak out when I start talking about Laura. And I don’t feel like... like I have to...” He gets that super uncomfortable look on his face again and Stiles really starts to regret that he asked. “Like I have to be someone else. Like I have to be what people expect of me.”  
  
Stiles nods. He understands that, too. People expect him to be nothing more than the spastic, hyper, dorky, clumsy kid he is on the surface. But he’s more than that, too. Most people are.  
  
It’s silent for a second before Stiles says, “Well,” probably a little too loudly. “Now that that’s over. We probably should go to bed.”  
  
Stiles does the best thing he can think of and steps forward and quickly kisses Derek. It’s short and maybe a little tense and not remotely romantic but well, he figures they can work on that.  
  
He smiles after they part because he has someone to work on kissing with. He has someone to kiss.  
  
“What?” Derek asks.  
  
“Goodnight,” Stiles says again. He steps into his room and closes the door, leaving what is probably a very confused Derek out in the hall.  
  
+  
  
“Seriously, stop doing that, it’s gross,” Scott admonishes as Stiles fits an astounding amount of chips into his mouth. “It’s unhealthy how you can unhinge your jaw like that.”  
  
“I’m not unhinging my jaw,” Stiles counters once he’s finished his chips. Then he grins. “And my boyfriend likes it.” He’s been saying that all week. As of today, he’s already said it twice. This is the first time all week, all month actually, that Stiles and Scott have hung out alone and Stiles can’t seem to stop bringing up the subject of how he has a boyfriend who is, thank you very much, the greatest boyfriend in the history of all the things.  
  
Scott groans. “You’re not pathetically single anymore, I get it.” He throws down his xbox controller and Stiles takes advantage of Scott’s momentary frustration and chops Scott’s character Ermac’s head off with his chosen character Scorpion’s blade. The game announces Stiles the winner and he’s just about to start cheering when out of the corner of his eye he sees Scott frowning.  
  
“Oh, come on. You won the previous two rounds, don’t go pouting now,” says Stiles.  
  
“It’s not the game,” Scott says.  
  
“Okay...” Stiles says slowly, suddenly feeling very confused. “You’re not that annoyed by my repeatedly making jokes about having a boyfriend now, are you?”  
  
“No,” Scott whines. He folds his arms across his chest, completing the surly, pouty look he’s suddenly got going.  
  
Stiles opens his mouth to ask “Okay, what then?” when Scott says, “I can’t talk to Allison.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I can’t talk to Allison,” Scott says again.  
  
Stiles holds back from telling Scott that repeating something and explaining it are not the same thing and instead says, “What do you mean, you can’t talk to her?”  
  
“Exactly what I said, I can’t talk to her.”  
  
“Well, you see her enough...” Stiles says, not understanding Scott’s problem in the least. Allison is at the mall and at the theater all the time. Does Scott mean he can’t figure out what to say, that’s he too awkward and uncomfortable around her? Because if that’s the case, then (and not that he’ll ever say this) isn’t that kind of proof this isn’t going to work out? Shouldn’t you be able to talk to the person you like? Maybe not about how you like them, but about... something. Or maybe not. It’s not like he’s an expert at these things.  
  
“I almost never see her,” Scott whines. “Not for more than ten seconds. And I never know what to say, so I always just end up handing her her ticket and saying something lame like ‘I hope you enjoy the movie’ or something.”  
  
Stiles sighs. This is idiotic, and as a guy who has had the same crush for most of his life he knows about idiotic. He also, as of very recently, knows a little about fixing idiotic situations. Sort of. Besides, it might not all be as hopeless as it seems. “She’s been to the movies three times this week. And every time she makes a point of walking over to you,” he says.  
  
“What? No, that’s - that’s - she’s been there and not talked to me.“ Scott tries to brush it off, tries to act like it isn’t true. Stiles doesn’t know why Scott does that, it’s absolutely true. Stiles has seen Allison purposefully walk over to Scott every single time she comes into the theater. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say that every time she’s come in this week she looks hopeful. People generally aren’t hopeful like that about going to the movies so it’s likely it’s got something to do with Scott. Unless Stiles is entirely wrong and it doesn’t have anything to do with Scott. But he hopes it’s the first one.  
  
“Really?” Scott asks, his voice going up in the goofiest way possible. He clears his throat and says, in a more normal tone, “Really?”  
  
Stiles nods quickly. “Yes, really. So next time you see her, say something!”  
  
Scott grins and nods. “Maybe I will.” He picks up his controller and waves it in the air. “Wanna play again?”  
  
Stiles hits the start button on his controller and the game starts again. “Don’t drop your controller this time. When I beat you I want it to be because of my superior skill, not because you quit playing.”  
  
Scott rolls his eyes. Onscreen, his character dashes forward and punches Stiles’ character in the head with its’ massive green fist.  
  
+  
  
Three days later, Stiles finds himself waking up to his alarm buzzing and not being the one to turn it off. For a split second he’s confused and wonders if maybe his alarm is malfunctioning but then Derek groans and says, “Why do you get up so early?” And there’s this hard edge to his voice that Stiles really kinda loves. And then he remembers. Oh, right. Derek slept in here with him last night.  
  
They’re both fully clothed - or rather wearing pajamas. Stiles feels like there needs to be a pajama version of the word ‘clothed’, but anyway. They haven’t slept together- they can’t - they’ve had that discussion. Last night they’d slept together, but in the actual, literal meaning of ‘sleeping’.  
  
They won’t be doing anything that would be considered illegal due to the difference in their ages right now. They’re going to wait to do anything remotely sex related until his eighteenth birthday. On his birthday though? On his birthday Stiles doesn’t care where either of them is, what day of the week it is, what either of them is supposed to be doing or even if he’s got an exam the next day, he’s going to spend the day with Derek and they’re going to do all the things they can’t do right now. Because seeing Derek unshaved and half naked in his bed and not being able to do anything about it? It’s almost torture.  
  
He groans and beside him, Derek shifts. When he looks over he sees Derek now has his head under his pillow. “Let me guess, in college no one gets up before two in the afternoon,” Stiles says.  
  
Derek groans and throws the pillow to the foot of the bed. “No. I don’t like to get up at - “ he lifts his head just enough to see the alarm clock on Stiles’ bedside table. “Seven am. Why do you have the alarm set for seven?”  
  
“Because I have things to do,” Stiles says matter-of-factly.  
  
“Oh, yeah?” Derek says. He flips over and props himself up with his elbow so he’s almost leaning over Stiles. “What things do you have to do?”  
  
“Things,” Stiles says. “I have things.”  
  
“What things do you have to do at seven am on a satur-” Derek bursts out laughing mid-sentence. “You set your alarm to watch saturday morning cartoons, don’t you?”  
  
Stiles looks away and hopes desperately that he’s not blushing even though his cheeks feel entirely too warm to not be blushing. “Maybe.”  
  
Derek laughs again and it makes Stiles ridiculously happy that he can make Derek laugh, even if Derek is laughing at him. Then he scoffs, leans in just a little and says, “Come on, don’t act like you don’t want to spend the morning watching cartoons with me. You do. I can tell.”  
  
“You can, huh?” Derek says as he quirks one of his ridiculously big eyebrows and leans in just a little bit closer. They’re almost close enough to kiss and Stiles is about to close the distance and do it when Derek leans back and gets out of bed. Stiles unspectacularly falls face first into the mattress and again Derek laughs at him.  
  
Stiles calls him a jackass, but forgives him when he makes the largest pot of coffee Stiles has ever seen.  
  
They spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons and eating cereal out of the box.  
  
+  
  
The next time Stiles sees Allison walking into the theater he immediately grabs his phone out of his pocket and texts Scott two words: “she’s here”.  
  
Rather than do what any sane person would and text him back, Scott looks at him from across the lobby and flips his hands out in a ‘What?’ gesture. Stiles, rather than text Scott back and tell him what an idiot he is, points towards the doors where Allison is standing with Lydia and looking at movie posters. Fortunately, it seems like she hasn’t seen either of them gesticulating like morons at each other otherwise this whole ‘Scott asking Allison out’ plan would already be sunk.  
  
Scott looks over at Allison and Stiles can see him smiling. He sends Scott another text that says “good luck” just as Allison and Lydia walk over to the ticket booth. As they walk up, Stiles can hear Lydia saying, “This is the fourth movie this week. You owe me for this, you know that right?” She pauses, smiles and says, “You’re paying for my ticket.”  
  
Allison nods hurriedly then huffs out, “Okay, fine.” Then she turns to Stiles and smiles politely. “So, two tickets to,” she looks up at the movie listings, “the zombie one, please.”  
Stiles nods and starts putting in the info for the tickets. “That’ll be -” he starts, but Lydia cuts him off with an indignant, “But we were going to see the new Ryan Gosling movie.” And of course they were, Lydia is a sucker for anything with Ryan Gosling in it.  
  
Without turning to look at Lydia, Allison says, “We were, but since I’m paying for the tickets, we’re going to the movie I pick. And I want to see something with zombies and explosions and big, expensive fight scenes.”  
“Well,” says Lydia, “then you’re paying for my ticket and you still owe me.”  
  
“Fine,” Allison says, just like anytime anyone says that word it’s anything but.  
  
Stiles, confused as to what exactly is going on, says, “So do you want the tickets or...?” leaving the sentence unfinished, because really, he isn’t sure. This is looking like maybe Allison’s been dragging Lydia to the movies, maybe because she’s doing exactly what Stiles said she was doing and coming here more often to talk to Scott, but it could be something else, too. Girls are kind of weird and mysterious like that.  
  
Allison says, “We’ll take them,” but Lydia looks wary. Stiles prints them anyway and they talk a little about Allison’s love of all movies that are scary, dark and/or twisted while she pays for the tickets.  
  
He watches as Allison and Lydia make their way over to get their tickets checked, to where Scott has been standing and pretending not to stare the entire time Allison’s been here. He watches as Scott smiles at Allison and says something that makes her laugh. He watches as they start talking and as Lydia makes a point of staring at her phone. He watches as Scott gets visibly flustered and Stiles assumes that he’s asking Allison out. Allison smiles and nods and Scott looks like he’s about to start cheering. Scott takes their tickets and hands them back the stubs and smiles at Allison some more. She smiles back so hard it looks like it might actually hurt and walks off down the hall to the third theater with Lydia dragging her feet behind her. Scott looks like he’s about to start dancing right there, at work, where everyone can see him, but he stops himself just before he actually does it.  
  
After work, Scott talks about what was a less than five minute conversation for over an hour. He talks about what she was wearing, about what she said, about how she looked at him and every other conceivable detail both real and imagined until Stiles has no choice but to smash his hands to his face and say, “Okay, I am officially apologizing for making you put up with me for the past few weeks because seriously, if I was half as annoying as you’re being right now, I don’t know that I can ever make up for it.”  
  
Scott looks offended for about three seconds before he starts talking about Allison again.  
  
+  
  
By the end of the month, Stiles is both ten times happier and ten times sadder than he’s ever been in his entire life. He’s happy because being with Derek has been the greatest thing ever, and that’s not even an exaggeration. An exaggeration might be to say that there are no better things in the entire universe. An exaggeration might be to say that he likes Derek more than even curly fries. Or maybe that isn’t the greatest example of an exaggeration - it’s almost true. Stiles likes Derek as much as curly fries, just not more. (Not yet.)  
  
But comparisons between his fantastic boyfriend and the best food in existence aside, he’s also really sad because pretty soon Derek’s going to have to go back to school, and Stiles is going to be alone - even if it’s not entirely alone. He’s never really been the type to miss people, he’s never really gotten that involved with that many people, but he’s going to miss Derek. Even if he’s only going to be a few hours away. It’s still a lot further than across the hall.  
  
Not that Derek has been sleeping across the hall very often anymore. And that? That Stiles is probably going to miss the most. He’s going to miss having to fight for the covers; he’s going to miss waking up half-crushed by Derek and his impossibly strong arms. He’s going to miss a lot of things.  
  
But instead of ruining it by moping and being horribly sad all the time, he tries to spend as much time with Derek as possible, and demand that Derek sleep in his room every night until the night before his father gets home. (Because as much as Stiles likes Derek, he’s not exactly sure of how to bring this up to his dad and he wants to be as careful about it as possible.)  
  
Three days before his father is supposed to come home, Stiles is woken up sharply when he suddenly notices he’s cold. “Derek,” he whines, his eyes still half closed. “Come here.” He rolls over in bed to find Derek standing pressed against the wall. “What are you doing?”  
  
“No, I think the question is what the hell were the both of you doing?” says a voice from behind him. And, oh. Crap. That’s his dad. That’s... that’s definitely... Oh, crap. Stiles is afraid to turn around, afraid for this to actually be real. He’s halfway to convincing himself that if he just closes his eyes and goes back to sleep that this is all just a nightmare. This isn’t happening. No way is this happening. But then his father says, “Stiles,” in his best I-am-the-Sheriff-I-demand-respect tone and Stiles knows it’s really happening. His dad, his dad who he has never even discussed the fact that he likes guys with, just found him sleeping in bed with his boyfriend. His older, college age boyfriend.  
  
He turns around and looks at his dad. Before he can stop it, the words, “Um, we didn’t, I’m not - oh, crap,” come tumbling out of his mouth.  
  
Derek, still standing by the wall, Stiles assumes, still hasn’t said a single thing.  
  
“Get dressed,” the Sheriff says and it’s very obvious it’s intended as a command. “And come downstairs. Quickly.” With that said, the Sheriff turns on his heel and walks downstairs.  
  
For several minutes, Stiles and Derek both just sit there, not looking at each other and not speaking. There’s a palpable air of terror in the room and it’s making Stiles feel like he’s going to throw up. Which in turn makes him more nervous because having your new boyfriend see you throw up? Not sexy.  
  
“I’ll just...” Derek says then gulps. “Go get dressed.” He walks out into the hall and he looks like he’s walking to his execution. Stiles knows how he feels.  
  
Stiles sits in bed for another possibly several minutes before getting dressed. He’s too shocked to know if his clothes are really clean or not, but they don’t noticeably smell or have any stains on them, so he doesn’t care much.  
  
He walks out into the hall to find Derek waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Well, either he’s waiting or, with the way he’s currently staring at the staircase like he’s never seen one before, he’s too stunned to figure out how to get downstairs. So Stiles does the only thing he can think of and grabs Derek’s hand and drags him down, step by tortuous step. Halfway down, he grips Derek’s hand a bit, not as a sign of comfort, but because both their hands are so slippery with sweat that if he doesn’t he’ll lose his grip entirely.  
  
Just before they reach the kitchen, and Stiles’ dad, Derek drops Stiles’ hand like it’s just caught fire. Stiles grabs it again and squeezes it - hard. “We have to - “ Stiles voice squeaks so he clears his throat. “We have to present a united front.” He squeezes Derek’s hand again and Derek gets this look on his face that Stiles will from now on describe as his well-I’m-already-going-to-hell look.  
  
They walk in, hands clasped tightly together, prepared to be strong. The Sheriff looks at them, looks at their joined hands, then looks over at the locked box containing his gun and grunts dismissively.  
  
They step away from each other immediately and move to sit down at the table. Once they sit, they push their chairs as far apart as they can without moving past the edges of the table.  
  
“So,” the Sheriff says, a bitter look on his face. “What is this?”  
  
“Um, well, uh -” Stiles gulps. “Um... see, the thing is... I’m... umm...” Stiles feels like he’s choking. He feels like the edges of the room are starting to blur.  
  
“Gay?” his dad finishes and he’s... smiling. He’s amused. He’s smiling? Why is he smiling? “Yeah, I kind of figured. I’m also kind of upset that you seem to think that’s why I’m disappointed in you right now.”  
  
“Oh,” says Stiles. And that’s all he can say. That’s all anyone says for what (at least feels like) several minutes. Derek keeps looking at the table like it holds the answers to the universe and every few seconds the Sheriff keeps pointedly looking at the box containing his gun.  
  
“So...” Stiles says in an attempt to finally break the silence, but that’s all he says. Because, really, that’s all he’s got.  
  
“You still haven’t told me how-” the Sheriff waves a hand at Stiles and Derek. “This all happened.”  
  
“Um.” Stiles swallows and he’s pretty sure he can hear the sound echoing in the kitchen. “You mean like you want details?”  
  
“Yeah,” the Sheriff says, but then he makes a face. “No. No, actually, I don’t.” He turns his gaze on Derek and immediately it hardens into a glare. “The thing I really want to know is what a college student is doing dating my high school aged son.”  
  
Stiles looks over at Derek and Derek seems to shrink to about half his normal size.  
  
“I like Derek,” Stiles says. He reaches across the table and grabs Derek’s hand. Derek tries to slip his hand out of Stiles’ grip, but Stiles doesn’t let him. “He’s one of the nicest people I know. And he doesn’t mind that I tend to talk forever. And he’s smart. He reads like eight books a day. You know he packed like five shirts and three stacks of books? And he watches movies with me and Scott. And he’s sweet.” Stiles pauses to roll his eyes fondly. “In a coarse sort of way.”  
  
The Sheriff doesn’t let up with the glare of doom, but now he’s levelling it at the both of them equally. “Is that a fact?” he says.  
  
“It is,” says Stiles.  
  
“Derek?” says the Sheriff in a commanding if slightly softer tone, and for the first time Derek looks up.  
  
“I like Stiles too,” he says softly. He’s still not looking the Sheriff quite in the eye, but he’s at least looking up. “I know there’s an age difference, but we’ve talked about it. We’re not and we haven’t done anything. We were just sleeping, that was all. And I didn’t force him into anything, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”  
  
“I-” The Sheriff shakes his head sharply. “I really don’t need to know about that. That, that I am just happier not knowing anything about.”  
  
Derek instantly ducks his head back towards the table, but even so it’s impossible to miss the bright red flush of his cheeks.  
  
“I just need to know that you’re in this for the right reasons,” the Sheriff says and Stiles isn’t sure exactly which one of them the question is aimed at. “I need to know that you’ve both thought this through.”  
  
“I have,” Derek says. He looks up for a fraction of a second. “We have.”  
  
“So,” Stiles says as he breathes out, “are we done now? Fatherly duty accomplished? Scaring my first boyfriend half to death all done with Sheriff?”  
  
His dad rolls his eyes, “Stiles,” he says, irritated but sort of amused at the same time, a tone he’s used with Stiles many, many times before. “Don’t.” And that’s it. Stiles. Don’t. No mention of what it is exactly Stiles isn’t supposed to do, not that he doesn’t know anyway.  
  
“Well,” Stiles says, exaggerating the syllables of the word. “If we’re done here, I believe me and my boyfriend have boyfriend things to go and do.” Stiles stands up and jerks Derek up by his hand. Derek looks moderately terrified and Stiles’ dad is trying to keep the whole ‘I’m the Sheriff and I know how to kill you and make it look like an accident’ vibe going, but Stiles can tell from the way the corners of his mouth are twitching that he’s barely holding off from laughing.  
  
“Stiles,” Derek says once they’re outside the kitchen. “Your dad is going to kill me.”  
  
“No he won’t,” Stiles says. He laughs. “And if he tries, he’ll have to go through me.” Stiles leans in and kisses Derek on the cheek. Derek still looks moderately terrified.  
  
It takes two days to for Stiles to get Derek to kiss him properly again. But more unfortunate than that is that Derek ends up sleeping on the couch for the last few days he’s there.  
  
+  
  
The day Derek leaves it’s bright and sunny and hot outside. Stiles almost wishes it was gray and cloudy, it would fit his mood better.  
  
He’s been watching Derek carefully pack his books up and it’s been all he can do not to remove every book that Derek places in the bag and put it back out on the floor. He’s known this day was coming, has been very aware of it this whole time. There has rarely been a moment where the thought of it wasn’t in the back of his mind.  
  
But.  
  
Now that the day is here, now that he’s watching Derek packing, it’s just worse. It’s just ineffably worse.  
  
He holds back from whining “Do you have to go?” and settles for flopping onto the bed instead.  
  
For a second, Derek stops neatly packing away his books and glances over at Stiles. He smiles and Stiles almost kind of hates him for it. Partly because he’s so impossibly pretty when he smiles and partly because he himself feels completely unable to smile at all right now. He tries to smile back at Derek and he feels like it comes out more like a grimace.  
  
Derek laughs. “It’ll be fine, Stiles.” He half crawls, half skids over to the side of the bed. “I’ll come visit the first weekend of October.”  
  
Stiles rolls over so he’s facing Derek. He sinks his face into the bed and whines, “But that’s so far away.”  
  
“I’m sorry, what was that? All I got was mumbling,” Derek says. He leans up against the bed and runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair.  
  
Stiles lifts his head just enough to see, but not enough that Derek’s hand drops away. “I’m going to miss you anyway,” he says.  
  
Derek nods. “Well the internet is a thing. We can call each other and text and email and skype. I bet you get sick of me after a week.” He smiles again and that’s when Stiles figures it out. He does that more when he’s sad than when he’s happy, and that’s just weird. Most people smile when they’re happy, not smile to cover up how sad they are.  
  
“Get sick of you? Never,” he says. He refuses to smile. He refuses to do it. “I’ll miss you until you’re here again. And again after that. And after that, at Christmas. At Christmas I fully plan to - “ but he doesn’t get to say what he fully plans to do at Christmas because Derek presses into the bed a little more and leans up at the most awkward angle. Derek kisses him and half of him can’t help but think of how uncomfortable this is - he’s lying flat as a board on the bed with his head tilted up and half of him is thinking about how much better they are at this now that they’ve practiced. And part of him really isn’t capable of thinking properly at all right now and okay, half and half and then another part isn’t correct math, but that doesn’t matter right now. Because Derek is kissing him, Derek is kissing him and he’s never going to get over that. He’s never going to get used to it.  
  
Derek starts gripping Stiles’ hair with the hand he forgot was even there and Stiles lets out what is probably a fairly pathetic little moan. He inches closer; he needs to be closer, and he nearly falls off the bed. Derek manages to simultaneously laugh and not break the kiss. Instead, he raises his other hand up and pushes against Stiles’ shoulder, holding him in place. Stiles reaches out and wraps a hand around Derek’s neck just as Derek starts deepening the kiss. He starts trailing his hand down Derek’s back and this time, Derek is the one letting out a moan.  
  
By the time they break apart they’re both panting and gasping for breath.  
  
“Okay, that,” Derek says, still panting, “I’m going to miss.”  
  
+  
  
It’s about mid-afternoon when Derek leaves. He puts his bags in his car and he and Stiles spend about ten minutes saying goodbye.  
  
“You’ll call when you get there, right?” Stiles says. He’s said it about three times now, but he can’t seem to help himself.  
  
“I’ll probably call from the road,” Derek says.  
  
Stiles scowls. “Don’t do that, it’s too dangerous.”  
  
“When I get there then,” Derek says and rolls his eyes.  
  
“The second you get there,” Stiles demands.  
  
“Fine,” Derek says.  
  
Stiles huffs exaggeratedly and leans in to hug Derek. The hug lasts a little too long and maybe he grabs Derek’s ass. Because really, it’s the last time he’s going to get to do that for a whole entire month. Not that anyone at school is ever going to believe him (or Scott, when Scott backs him up and acts totally disgusted about it) that someone as dorky as him is with someone as ridiculously hot as Derek.  
  
Stiles watches as Derek drives away, watches until his car disappears around the corner and then watches for a little while after that. He knows Derek isn’t going to come back, he didn’t forget anything and there’s no way he’s staying, even for an extra day. Classes start the day after tomorrow, and Derek has things to do the same as Stiles has things to do. Things that aren’t making out, watching cartoons or commenting on stupid movies.  
  
Even so, he stands there for a few minutes, just watching, waiting. When he really knows it for sure - Derek isn’t coming back - he turns around to head back into the house. He finds his dad standing on the front step and he can’t help but wonder exactly how much of all of that he just saw. But he doesn’t ask. He’s got a more important question.  
  
“So...” Stiles says hesitantly. He doesn’t want to do this, he really doesn’t want to do this, but he also really needs to do this. “You knew?”  
  
His dad smiles. “Kid, I’ve known since you were little. I love you, but subtle you’re not.”  
  
Stiles quirks an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”  
  
His dad huffs, clearly thinking this should be obvious. “I mean, when you were little, all you’d talk about was Derek. All you’d talk about was how much you liked him, and not just in the normal way kids usually go on about their babysitters. You once went on for ten minutes about what color his eyes were and how you thought there should be a special word invented for it.”  
  
“Wait a minute...” Stiles can feel the gears turning slowly in his brain. He’s trying to get the information to fit together, it’s there, he just... can’t quite make it fit. He doesn’t remember that particular speech, or that he went on about Derek so much to his dad, but then, he was twelve, so... there’s probably a lot he doesn’t remember. “So... then... did you...”  
  
“Do this on purpose?” his dad says with a smile. “I guess you’ll never know.”   
  
He starts walking back towards towards the house and just before he goes in Stiles calls out, “So what was all that this morning?”   
  
Without turning around, his dad says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“Come on. I’m talking about the glaring and the questioning and the threatening my boyfriend with the staring at your gun.”   
  
“He’s your first boyfriend. It is, as you said, my fatherly duty.”  
  
At that he opens the door and walks in, leaving a very confused Stiles standing outside.  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, I'm on tumblr. My username is [itsnoteasybeinggreenberg](http://itsnoteasybeinggreenberg.tumblr.com/). It's pretty much a teen wolf blog.


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